One murder made a villain,
Millions a hero.--Princes were privileg'd
To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime.
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One murder made a villain,
Millions a hero.--Princes were privileg'd
To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime.
Ah! why will kings forget that they are men,
And men that they are brethren?

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
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Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.

Criminals do not die by the hands of the law; they die by the hands of other men.

Criminals do not die by the hands of the law; they die by the hands of other men.

One to destroy is murder by the law,
And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe;
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One to destroy is murder by the law,
And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe;
To murder thousands takes a specious name,
War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame.

The very emphasis of the commandment: Thou shalt not kill, makes it certain that we are descended from an endlessly read more

The very emphasis of the commandment: Thou shalt not kill, makes it certain that we are descended from an endlessly long chain of generations of murderers, whose love of murder was in their blood as it is perhaps also in ours.

A woman has a much better chance than a man of acquittal on a murder charge. If she happens to read more

A woman has a much better chance than a man of acquittal on a murder charge. If she happens to be a blonde her chances rise about 45 percent.

Every unpunished murder takes away something from the security of every man's life.

Every unpunished murder takes away something from the security of every man's life.

Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time,
Ere humane stature purged the gentle weal;
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Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time,
Ere humane stature purged the gentle weal;
Ay, and since too, murders have been performed
Too terrible for the ear. The time has been
That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end. But now they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools. This is more strange
Than such a murder is.

'A took my father grossly, full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
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'A took my father grossly, full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?